Calm Before the Storm

Two years ago today I received a letter from the DOJ officially releasing me from my absurd obligation to register every year on my birthday at the local police department as a sexual threat.  That came as a surprise memory, a la Facebook, on the day I happen to finish reading Thoreau's On the Duty of Civil Disobedience, where he goes on and on about how corrupt and tainted the system is.  I finished choking on Walden last week, and finally understood what he was trying to say: something I already understood; he's bloody brilliant; let's celebrate him.  This particular poorly printed version of Walden  had the previously mentioned essay attached to it, and it really just pissed me off.  Not only have things not gotten better in the last 150 or so years, but they have gotten so incredibly worse.

This just goes to show what impact "art" truly has on society: you can point out the obvious, clearly stated and eloquently argued, and the masses of idiots will continue their course, determined by the brilliant few who tell them what the course is, which is generally the one that gets them more power, control, and money.  I can feel the negative hurricane swelling, so I'll just leave it at that.  Two years feels like so long ago, and, just as when I stood before the judge fifteen years ago, no one in my life has been raped or molested, so nothing has really changed on my end, other than the fact that I can actually get jobs now.

See now, I just got completely distracted by searching for music to put on a birthing playlist.  Going with the theme of the prospective name (Eroica), I had hoped to compile an amazing Beethoven soundtrack, but I didn't truly appreciate how much music he actually wrote.  Everything will change so dramatically in less than a month.  I don't even know how I feel about it yet.  This pregnancy has gone by so quick.  It doesn't help that we spent the first four months half expecting this one to randomly not have a heart beat, too.  The calm before the storm starts now.  The toddler is gone for a week, so we can breathe and take this all in.  I, of course, just want to go out and shoot.  I've already missed too much.  I need more time.

I have wanted to write; sat down to write; so many times in these last couple weeks, but nothing has come out well enough to articulate it on this platform.  There have been relationship and work struggles that I am not at liberty to discuss, but can, I guess, within the understanding that we all have moments of frustration in everything; I just never had the filter that kept me from disclosing all the information.  I never cared what people thought.  Think what you want, you're going to anyway.  I've been through this so many times in my own little evolution.  I have written extensively about it.  Even in the few posts on here I have managed to repeat myself.  I don't know if I need to write more frequently, or if my mind is stuck in a kind cyclic redundancy of neurological disfunction.

I am finally coming to terms with the latter.  Clearly my mind is a minefield of synaptic misfire.  The signs have been everywhere for a while now.  I always had a problem relating to anything most people find commonplace, to the point of hating everything and everyone around me because "they" didn't get it.  It has become clearer to me that I was the one who didn't get it. How else could no one understand?  Because there is something wrong with me.  That seems to be the only possible solution.  I have met with a number of "accidents" where I was told by doctors that there was a "chance" of brain damage.  My great fever of '07 that left me with optical problems, and recently understood auditory problems, really leaves me feeling like my brain just doesn't process information like it should.  I mean, to be perfectly clear, how long was I dead before I was born?  Maybe I've just been a little bit retarded this whole time? struggling to make things work in this horrific delusion?

Ok, so clearly that is something I needed to write about, as embarrassing as it is.  Maybe I'll get into not feeling like I have the psychological or emotional freedom to write in future posts... somehow... without alienating the people I love or the people I work with.  Some day I'll find some sort of happy balance there.  In the meantime, pregnant emotions on an already absurdly emotional and verbose soul are fuuuuun, and toddlers... huh?... who doesn't love that emotional structure?  I'm just going to leave that there.  Everything remains beautiful.

Brace yourselves, baby is coming.

.......the hurricane before the storm.